Rebel Child
by HawthornSword
Summary: When Grif is drafted into the military and Kaikaina is left in state care, she suspects something suspicious is going on and sets out to find her brother. It's just that she gets caught up in a few adventures of her own along the way ... with an unlikely set of allies. Prequel to Survivors. Barely rated M - primarily for language.
1. Chapter 1

******AN: A big thanks to my beta reader AuroraBlix, you are awesome! Also, go read her stories; they totally rock! ******

******Disclaimer: Red vs. Blue belongs to Rooster Teeth, not me. I make no profit from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.******

**Chapter One**

_ Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Kaikaina Grif slammed her hand down on the obnoxiously beeping alarm clock for the third time as she heard her brother calling her from the kitchen,"Enough snoozing munchkin! It's game day!"

"I'm up! Quit your yelling!" Kai yelled just as loudly back. She rolled out of bed and stretched her muscular limbs thoroughly before going into the bathroom to begin her usual morning ablutions. She could smell the Spam and eggs Dexter was cooking as she brushed out her long coffee colored hair and washed her face. She walked back into her room and slid out of her pajamas, tossing them aside and squeezing into a high school cheer leading uniform and a pair of shoes so white they practically glowed. Dexter was just placing her plate of breakfast on the kitchen table as she plopped herself down in a chair.

"Is all your homework done?" Dexter asked.

"Yes, I finished it last night, I told you," Kai replied exasperatedly.

"Now remember, _please_ try to cheer for the right team this time. They won't let you back on the squad a third time. At least the teams aren't the same colors this time. That should help," Dexter ran his fingers through his long dread locks, the way Kai knew he always did when he was stressed.

"It's not my fault! I'm colorblind!" she whined.

"Don't give me that bullshit. You can read the team names on the jerseys. You see every one of those people at school on a daily basis," Dexter glared at her.

"Yeah, but the boys on that other team were so much cuter," Kai pouted.

"Don't even get me started on boys again!" Dexter looked a little panicked. "I've already taken you to the clinic twice."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Kai rolled her eyes. "Are you coming to the game?" She asked to change the subject. Dexter sighed. "Right, you have to work," she said dully.

"I'm sorry Sister. Really, I am," Dexter tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace.

"It's no big deal, really. I know it's – bills and stuff," Sister shrugged.

"Yeah," Dexter looked a bit downtrodden.

"You know, I'm sure Mom just got distracted somewhere. She'll call any day to tell us her latest adventures and that she's transferring us some money."

"Sister … " Dexter couldn't quite meet her eyes, or finish the sentence. Mom hadn't sent money in two years, since he was eighteen. Dexter just couldn't quite bear to rain on his sister's eternally sunny disposition.

"Grif, I'm not stupid. I know how hard you have to work for me. I know what you've had to give up. I know Mom is probably gone for good. I just prefer to think positive. She worked hard for us too, you know."

"I know. That's what I love about you, Sister. You're always so positive. Someone's got to offset all my negative energy, right? Now hurry up, the bus is here."

Sister grabbed her backpack and headed for the door. "I'm off to kick ass and take names. Love you bro!"

"Love you too." After a moment Sister heard him shout his usual afterthought out the door behind her, "Don't embarrass the family!" Grif then finished up his own breakfast, put the dishes in the washer, and headed out to start his own day at the auto parts shop he had been working for since their mother had left to join the circus four years previously.

It was a pretty typical day of taking people's money and complaints, and telling the mechanic how to do his job, and Grif had time to go home for lunch. He grabbed the mail out of the box and switched on the television as he came into the kitchen. Grif tossed the bills and junk mail onto the kitchen table and reached into the fridge for the pizza left over from the night before. As it reheated, he watched the television, not really paying much attention as it relayed the latest Grifball scores and Covenant attacks on outlying ships and planets. He sighed. He had once thought he'd like to join up and kill some aliens. He liked the idea of adventure and glory. He supposed he got that from his father. Mom had always told them stories about the daring and adventurous stunt pilot that was the only man she had ever loved. He, according to Mom, had loved her and their kids too but "couldn't be tamed" enough to settle down and help raise them. Mom said he and Kai were smart like Dad, adventurous and good with vehicles. Grif actually believed that last part at least, as he regularly won money in drag races to supplement his income. He could have been a mechanic; it payed better than working in the store. Grif figured he would work his way up to being a manager quicker, and have infinitely higher pay and hiring potential, if he dealt with customers and paperwork as well, despite how much he hated it. It was also for the connections – his boss's brother worked in the Honolulu police department, so Grif had been able to put together a legal community racing group with his help. The man looked the other way when there was gambling going on, because Grif had almost single handed gotten young people who were doing dangerous racing off the streets. They all came to Honolulu PD's sponsored events now. Besides, Grif knew he needed the cops on his side when Sister entered high school and he realized how often he'd be beating teenage boys to a pulp to keep them away from her.

Sister had insisted on skipping a grade so that she could graduate early and get a job. She didn't want Grif to have to keep taking care of her. Grif had argued at first, fearing that she'd fall behind in classes or have trouble dealing with the older students, but in the end he was thankful for it. He didn't know how long he could keep the free-spirited girl out of trouble. Sister had done just fine in her classes so far, even tested out of a few of them. While she wasn't particularly clever – Grif had gotten all the logic of the family – Sister could memorize anything almost instantly. Grif often wondered if she had an eidetic memory, despite it being said that such a thing didn't actually exist. She knew almost as much about vehicle maintenance as he did, just from sitting with him as he worked on cars. She didn't figure things out on her own, but once it was explained to her she knew how it worked. She read her text books, absorbed the information like a sponge, and aced her tests. So long as he reminded her to actually turn in her homework, she got decent grades. Grif figured it was god's way of compensating for excessive ditziness – most people thought Sister was an idiot.

And Sister let them go on thinking it, which bugged Grif. She could have been a star at school, but preferred to let people think she was mediocre. She said the girls weren't as mean if she wasn't a threat, and the boys weren't as intimidated if she wasn't smarter than them. Grif couldn't fault the girl for knowing her priorities. Sister openly admitted that she just wanted to have fun and kiss boys (Or anyone, really). He could fault the priorities themselves, but not that Sister knew and held to hers so adamantly at such a young age. He blamed himself, of course. He had very specifically not been an over or under achiever during school so that he wouldn't be noticed – for anything, bad or good – so that no one would know their mother had left them without a guardian and only occasionally sent money for rent. And as for Sister running around with boys … after he had beaten up the first few Sister had gotten sneaky about it. And again, he felt it was his fault since he'd punished the guys and not her, but he figured if he'd had a little brother that romantically successful so young he would have been congratulating him. At least one of them was getting laid.

Grif sighed as he munched on his lukewarm pizza, thinking about his odd life and halfway watching footage recovered from the latest Insurrection attack.

"Fucking Innies," he muttered, "don't they know there's a _real_ war on? They may as well go join the fucking Covenant." Grif sighed again and stood, groaned a little, and turned the TV off. "Well, back to work Grif. Sister has her priorities, and keeping a roof over her head is yours," he said to himself.

As he turned to leave something on the table caught his eye. He brushed the other mail aside and picked up a shiny, clear plastic postcard. It was blank except for the UNSC logo in one corner.

"Huh. What in the world?" Suddenly, the UNSC logo enlarged, lit up, and a voice spoke.

"This is an official pre-recorded holo-postcard from the United Nations Space Command. Please remain still while your identity is confirmed," said a pleasant, only slightly robotic, female voice.

"Uh … " Grif was too startled to move as the postcard glowed blue.

"Voice identification accepted. Dexter Grif. Please stand by for message." There was a pause.

"Hello," said a new voice – a man's this time, still pleasant, almost overly soothing. "In this time of war, the worst we have ever known, sometimes desperate measures must be taken. Calculations have been done to determine the exact number of soldiers needed to win this war. Volunteer forces are no longer enough. That is why we have instituted a galaxy wide draft, to draw by lottery more soldiers for the effort against the Covenant. Do your duty – protect your family, our citizens, our way of life, our very existence! Report to your nearest recruiting station tomorrow at 0800 hours for further instructions." The message paused and the original voice came back.

"Message marked as received. Please remember that failure to report for duty as a draftee is considered treason. Have a nice day!"

The blue glow faded and the clear plastic postcard now showed in neat white letters the address of the nearest recruitment center. Grif just stared. His hands were shaking. They shook so hard the card fell from his fingertips to the cheap vinyl tiles of the kitchen floor.

His cell phone rang, jolting him out of his stupor. He fumbled for it in his pocket for a moment.

"Yeah?"

"Grif, where are you? You're late," His boss's voice sounded very far away.

"I'm gonna need the rest of the day off. And tomorrow too."

"What's wrong? Are you hurt? Is Sister okay?"

"No, we're fine."

"Well, did you get a jury duty summons or something? Come on man, you haven't taken a single day off in the four years I've known you.

"Uh, yeah, something like that. Hey, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later."

"Grif, wait a sec – " He hung up the phone and dropped heavily back into his chair, taking in deep gulps of air.

"Well, fuck," he said to himself, thinking of what he had wanted when he was younger. "I guess now I know why they say be careful what you wish for."

Sister was in the locker room, stretching in the hot shower. The school day had been uneventful for the most part, as was usual. At least, it had been in her mind. She'd had a history test that she could have aced, but purposefully gotten several answers wrong so the girl behind her that always tried to cheat wouldn't get as high of a score. She'd made the kids at the lunch table laugh when she'd said something stupid again. She just couldn't get the right words to come out at the right time. The meaner kids made fun of her; the nicer ones went along with the joke she made of herself being "verbally dyslexic." She liked making people laugh, so she ignored the mean kids. There was a boy she didn't like in gym that kept flirting with her and then calling her a slut behind her back. She didn't mind him calling her a slut. She minded him being too coward to say it to her face. She threw a basketball and hit him in the face when the coach wasn't looking. The coach yelled at him for being clumsy and sent him to the nurse for a broken nose. Sister had always been strong. So yeah, all in all, a normal day.

The cheer leading squad was getting ready for the game that night, and she heard the other girls discussing what she had done. Whispering about it, actually. About how she was raised by her brother and a circus freak mom, and that's why she was "like that" or, "troubled" as the nicer girls put it. Sister wasn't overly concerned about it until "Cate the Rumor-monger" joined the conversation.

"You know it's cause she's secretly a boy." several girls snorted with laughter. Sister had been about to step out of the shower stall, but waited.

"No, it's true. That's why Rory transferred to a different school at the end of last semester. She likes girls, remember? And they were always hanging out, you know? And when Rory found out Sister was a boy, she was traumatized."

"Don't be stupid Cate. Rory likes boys too," one of the other girls replied. This caused Cate to pause, flustered, and rethink her strategy.

"Yes, but she liked Tom, remember? And Tom and Sister were seen making out around the same time. It was quite the scandal."

"Oh sure, the guy _you_ like conveniently turns out to be gay when he starts dating someone other than you," the girl chuckled. Most people knew not to take Cate seriously.

Sister however, had had enough of this entirely shitty day. She stepped out of the shower, still dripping, and didn't bother with a towel.

"Just to clarify – " she said loudly, and the other girls turned around. There were some squeals, some laughs, and some comments of, "Jesus, Sister, cover up!"

" – First of all," she said, hands on her hips, "clearly not a dude." Cate was staring, mortified. "Secondly, yes I made out with Tom, but that was to give him a goodbye kiss from Rory after her dad got transferred to California for work. Thirdly, I have it on good authority, namely my own, that Rory and Tom are both much better kissers than _you_, Cate." Sister smirked.

Cate shrieked with anger and lunged at Sister, going in for a slap. Sister caught the other girl's wrist in the air with one hand and slammed her other fist into the girl's face. Cate hit the ground.

And that was how Sister ran onto the basketball court with bandaged knuckles to cheer that night, and Cate with a bandaged nose. Sister was a base and Cate was a flier, and they performed their routines perfectly under the watchful eye of their coach – a retired drill sergeant who believed in settling scores between team mates with fists, not detentions, so long as they 'got the job done' when cheering. He was completely fine with Cate's "mutinous" attitude, as he called it, being beaten out of her.

So focused was Sister on _not_ purposefully letting Cate hit the ground, that it took her a while to notice what was different that night. As the buzzer sounded for half time and Sister high-fived her friend Tom as he ran by heading for the locker-room, he said, "Hey, nice job with Cate earlier. Isn't that your brother in the stands? It's cool that he could make it tonight." Tom disappeared into the locker room as Sister whirled to face the stands. Sure enough, Grif was coming down the bleachers toward her. She grinned happily and ran to meet him.

"I thought you had to work!" The grin left her own face as she saw the look on her brother's. Grif saw her concern and tried to smile weakly. It didn't work. His hands were shaking again, and he tried to still them as Sister reached for him.

"What's wrong?" Sister demanded

"Your coach told me you've been fighting again. Sister, you _have_ to stop. You can't get in trouble!"

"I didn't get in trouble. She deserved it. Now what's wrong?"

"Kaikaina, I don't doubt it, but this is serious. You _have_ to _promise_ me that you'll be good and stay out of trouble from now on. No matter what."

"Grif. What. Is. Wrong."

"I've … I've been drafted into the marines."

" … What!?"


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: A big thanks to my beta reader AuroraBlix, you are awesome! Also, go read her stories; they totally rock! **

**Disclaimer: Red vs. Blue belongs to Rooster Teeth, not me. I make no profit from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**Chapter Two**

Grif and Sister sat nervously, staring at the recruitment officer sitting across the desk from them.

"Right, so, you're going to report here Monday morning and join the other new recruits. You'll all go through basic together and then be given a placement exam to decide what job you're best suited for."

"What if I'm not suited to any job? I mean, I'm incredibly lazy and insubordinate. I bet I flunk out before we even get to the exam part. I'm really not cut out for this. I mean look at this flab – I haven't worked out in like, ever."

"Uh, people aren't actually kicked out very often. It's more cost effective to continue using a second rate soldier than to pay to train a new one who will be more likely to survive and get promoted and payed more, actually … "

"Wow. That's … brutally honest. How can I get your job?"

"Nice try, but there are only two kinds of people who get this job – career guys who refuse to retire, and guys like me who are good with people but shitty at everything else. You're not good with people. I can tell already."

"Are you sure _you_ are?" Grif asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. The recruiter frowned at him.

"Seriously dude," Grif continued, "I can't do this. My sister is only thirteen. I have to be here to take care of her."

"Hmm … yes that is a problem. We weren't able to locate your mother. How long ago did you say she left?" The recruiter looked at the siblings suspiciously. Sister and Grif glanced at one another and shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"Two years ago," Grif lied. "After I turned eighteen. I'm her legal guardian," he specified. The recruiter typed a few things into his computer and waited a moment.

"We have a protocol for this sort of thing. Families of soldiers that live on bases in safe areas will often foster war orphans – "

"I'm not an orphan!" Sister cried.

"No, of course not, but I'm sure a place for you with one of these foster families can be found, just until we locate your mother."

"You have got to be kidding me!" Sister said angrily. "I'd rather take care of myself!"

"I'm afraid that can't be allowed until you are at least 16, miss."

"That's bullshit."

The recruiter just shrugged. "I don't make the rules."

Grif just sat there while Sister fumed, head in his hands. The recruiter droned on, explaining that Sister would report in with Grif on Monday and a UNSC social worker would escort her to her assigned foster home.

Both Grifs were numb by the time they got home to the run down little house their mother had left them in. Two days, that's all they had left together. Grif pulled a bottle of vodka and a pack of Oreos toward him as he collapsed on the couch. He reached for the remote, but stopped halfway there and slumped back into the couch again, leaving the room dark and silent. Sister watched him for a moment, then retreated to her own room, the door clicking quietly closed behind her. Grifs were notoriously loud and boisterous people. When they went quiet, that was when something was really wrong. The house was silent for the rest of the day.

When Grif's rumbling stomach finally brought him out of his stupor, he got up slowly and lumbered into the kitchen. He couldn't bring himself to eat though. The rumbling in his stomach was actually making him a bit queasy. He went into his room instead and looked around, then slowly began piling what items he was allowed to bring with him on his bed.

After a while he realized he really was hungry. He stared at the picture of him and Sister with their surf boards in front of their favorite diner on the beach that had been taken last summer. That was the day she had braided those stupid orange beads into his dreads. "To match mine, because we are bffs," she'd said. That was the day her friend Rory had moved to California. She'd taken it pretty hard. With a pang, Grif realized he'd soon have to shave those dreads he'd worked so hard on, with their stupid orange beads. Grif walked quickly down the hall to Sister's room, still holding the picture. He opened the door and stopped dead in surprise.

Sister was sitting on the floor in the middle of her room, the mascara he told her she was too young to wear streaked down her wet cheeks. She was holding a pair of scissors in one hand and her blue and white "Honolulu Junior Spartans" cheer leading outfit – or what was left of it – in the other. There were corners of posters hanging from bits of tape on her walls, and Grif could see the torn remains of several USNC posters from last fall's Career Day at school crumpled in the trash can.

Grif had forgotten – Sister had wanted to be a pilot, or an ODST, or a Spartan, since she was ten. She had a Master Chief birthday party that year, and said she was going to marry a spartan when she grew up. Sister loved heroes and justice and honor. For him, a draft was a literal prison sentence. For Sister, it was a betrayal – a loss of innocence, of trust.

"Hey," he said softly. "Let's go to the diner. We'll take our boards and catch some waves."

"I've got homework," Kai said dully without looking up.

"Fuck homework. We're going." Grif grinned at her and pulled her to her feet. Sister stared at him for a moment in surprise and then returned the grin.

%

Hours later, Grif and Sister lay on their surfboards, drifting in the current just off shore, staring up at the stars.

"We should get matching tattoos!" Sister said excitedly.

"You're kidding, right? You can't get a tattoo; you're thirteen."

"I can with your permission. Besides I know you got your Blade tattoo when you were like fifteen, and you didn't even bother get it done professionally, just by your amateur friend. Let's go get real traditional Hawaiian tattoos!"

Grif snorted, "Traditional Hawaiian tattoos? Sister, we live in the 26th century. There's no such thing anymore. That shit's for tourists. There's hardly anything left of what was Hawaiian culture."

"I know a guy who does the traditional style. We should get matching Ala Niho! They symbolize, like, a warrior and protection and family lineage!" she said with breathless excitement.

"Well, what would you need the leg stripe for it if symbolizes a warrior and protection? You're not the one fighting. And it had better stay that way," Grif glared at Sister in the dark, and she glared back. "Besides, weren't warriors supposed to earn their tattoos first?

"I thought it didn't matter because Hawaiian culture is dead?" Sister stuck her tongue out at her brother, who sighed. "Besides, you know what Mom always said – we can trace our Hawaiian heritage back 1000 years!"

"That's a load of bull, Kai," Grif laughed.

"I don't think it is, otherwise why would it be so important to Mom?"

"Oh yeah, family is _real_ important to Mom." Sister was quiet, and Grif finally sighed in resignation. "Fine, we'll get tattoos."

"Yes!" Sister raised her fists in triumph, and they paddled back towards the beach.

%

Sunrise had Grif and Sister staggering back into the house, exhausted and sore, sporting their new tattoos extending from hip to ankle: a sea turtle on the hip with a line of shark teeth and shells, symbols of protection and good fortune, and a line of ocean waves, to remind them of home, descending all the way down to the ankle, ending a shell shaped like a hook. And just to prove he could stand more pain than a thirteen year old girl, Grif had also gotten an angry looking shark, still in the tribal style, on his left pectoral, over his heart.

"Well, that was an experience," Grif sighed. "Time for sleeping now." He collapsed without further comment on the couch, and was snoring in moments. Sister grinned, then sighed and curled up in her own bed to sleep the morning away.

When Grif woke it was afternoon. There was a message on his cell - movers would be coming to put most of their things in storage, and a realtor was going to rent out the house. On the bright side of all this, that rent would go toward a nice little nest egg for the two of them, or the one one of them, if Grif didn't survive this ordeal.

Grif pushed that thought away and went back to Sister' room to find it already entirely packed. They didn't have all that many belongings, after all.

"Hey Sister," Grif said. She was sitting on her bed, staring into space. He walked up and tugged on the one dread lock in her otherwise smooth and tangleless hair – the one with the matching orange beads in it.

"You'll have to cut yours," she said miserably.

"I was thinking … maybe you'd do it for me," Grif replied. Sister looked up at him and nodded. He sat down on the floor in front of her and she picked up her scissors.

%

It was raining. Their ships had been supposed to take off at ten that morning, but a tropical storm had blown in that night and grounded all air traffic. They had spent a few more hours together in the terminal, playing cards, reminiscing, and dreading the moment the storm passed. The clouds were clearing now, despite the rain continuing to fall in some places, and the sunset was blood red.

"Red sky at night, sailor's delight." quoted an overly cheerful marine sitting nearby. Sister glowered at him as Grif sighed and picked up his bags. It was time.

"Well Dex, this is it."

"Remember what I told you – " Grif started.

"I know, I know – keep my grades up, keep out of trouble, and stay away from boys. And _you _promise to be careful and be awesome!" She grinned at him and they embraced.

"I'll message you all the time, and I promise I'll be home as soon as I can," Grif whispered, stroking her hair.

"I know," she whispered back. Grif pulled away and made his way towards the ship that would take him half way across the galaxy. When he was almost there Sister saw him turn back toward her and she grinned. She knew what he was going to say.

"Don't embarrass the family!" they shouted in unison. She laughed and waved a hand – now braceleted with one of her brother's dreadlocks, orange beads, and a yellow ribbon. That was the last time she saw her brother for a very long time.

%

Sister sat on the shuttle that was taking her to her new place of residence – she refused to call it home – and clutched her bag tightly to her chest. She'd never been off planet before, and it felt wrong that her fist time should be like this. What should have been exciting instead made her want to cry, and she had promised herself she wouldn't.

There were no windows on the shuttle, nor any in the area the shuttle docked. Sister thrust her arms through her backpack's straps and began lugging her larger duffel down the ship's ramp. She suddenly realized that she shouldn't have bothered bringing even half her clothes – the Moon was awfully cold, and layering doesn't do much good if all you owned was shorts and tank tops.

Sister looked around the shuttle bay for someone waiting for her with a sign or any indication of where she was supposed to go. The UNSC's social worker that had put her on the shuttle had assured her that her new foster parents would be waiting for her when she arrived. There was no one here that looked like they didn't work here. Sister sighed and grumbled something rude under her breath and headed for what she thought was the exit. She let out a squeak of fright when a shadow loomed over her shoulder and spun around to face a frighteningly large man. She couldn't see his face – he was in silhouette because she had to look straight up into the overhead lights on the ceiling because she was so much shorter than him and he was standing uncomfortably close.

"Umm … " Sister wasn't sure what to say. "_Just my luck. What will Grif say? I've probably somehow _already_ ended up where I'm not supposed to be,"_ she thought.

"Hello!" the man said loudly, and he leaned down toward Sister, his face only inches from hers. "Are you … Kakanaka?"

She cleared her throat nervously, "Kaikaina, but most people just call me Sister." Sister took a step back and stared – now that she could see – at the golden skinned man, no, boy with bright curious eyes and messy brown hair in front of her. He was only a few years older than her and gave off the distinct impression of a lost puppy.

"I'm Michael. I'm your new brother!" he said excitedly. Sister had to work hard not to make a biting comment – it wasn't this kid's fault Grif has been _stolen_ from her, after all.

"Uh, nice to meet you I guess. Where are your parents?"

"Dad's working. Mom's making supper. She sent me to get you. I'll carry your bags." Michael picked up her duffel and grabbed her bag right off her back, lifting her off the ground slightly before she slipped out of the straps.

"Oh, uh, thanks," Sister said as she rubbed her shoulder. She gaped at Michael – he lifted her bags like they were empty. "You must work out a lot."

"No, I'm just naturally strong. Dad says it's God's way of compensating...and then Mom shushes him and says I'm going to get into college, and then Dad laughs. I don't understand grownups."

Sister understood. Mostly because her teachers treated her the same way. Everyone thought she was stupid too. But then again, she perpetuated that idea purposefully. She didn't think that was the case here.

"My brother wants me to go to college," Sister said. "I think school is boring though. I'll take a ship out into the stars any day."

"Yeah, that sounds kinda scary."

"That's what makes it awesome!" Michael's face scrunched up in concentration; he didn't comprehend her logic.

"Mom says that we need to 'better ourselves.' She'll make sure you stay focused on school. My older sisters mostly just got married, but she wants the rest of us to go to college."

"How many siblings do you have?" Sister asked.

"Well, I'm the only boy, the middle child of, let's see … you'll make number eighteen."

"Holy shit!"

"Oh, you'll have to put a quarter in the swear jar for that! Mom's real strict."

"You're kidding, right?" but Sister could see from his expression that he wasn't. "Um, Michael, are all of them your biological sisters?"

"Well, I consider them my real sisters, but … " he looked around uncomfortably, "about half of them are orphans." He whispered in a sad tone. "But it makes me angry when people treat them different. They're still my family! And now you are too. You're even named Sister! That will be easy for me to remember," Michael smiled happily. He strode through the halls of the moon base, and Sister followed, thinking.

Was this how bad the war was, really? The system had already written her off as a war orphan and Grif hadn't even begun basic training. She watched the news, but how much worse was it than that, really?

"Michael, what do your parents do? They must have a lot of money to take care of so many kids." If Sister had ended up the pity case of some rich philanthropists she would just die.

"Not really. Dad's a waste management technician. Mom takes care of us." Michael stopped, and Sister almost bumped into him. "We're here!" he said happily.

They stood in front of a somewhat shabby looking apartment building that was the same color grey as everything else on the moon seemed to be.

"We're number five," Michael said. "I'm jealous actually; the girls get all the bunk beds." Michael opened the door and Sister was accosted by the shrieks of many small children and a delicious smell that she assumed was dinner.

"Mom, I found her! She's really nice and pretty!" Michael shouted. A middle aged woman stepped out of the kitchen and looked Sister up and down.

"Goodness, didn't you pack anything appropriate to wear?"

"Well, I am from Hawaii."

The woman smirked. "That's all right, I'm sure we've got some of the older girls' things that will fit you. Michael, take her things to the girls' room and gather everyone up please. It's time for dinner."

"Okay," Michael wandered away.

"Kaikaina, you just go ahead and sit down. You'll have chores and whatnot like the rest of the kids, but we'll give you a couple days to settle in."

"Thanks. Umm, so what do I call you?"

"Oh that's right, you've still got family they told me. You probably don't want to call me Mom in that case. Though why a woman would go and leave her babies to fend for themselves, I'll never understand."

Sister frowned. She had never resented her mother for leaving them. Kai believed a person should follow their dreams. She loved that her mom had done so even though she was no longer young.

"Well, I guess you can just call me Valerie, or Mrs. Caboose." Sister raised her eyebrows. "I know, it's an odd name." Michael's mother smirked. Sister was getting the sense that she did that often. Of course, with eighteen kids, she imagined one would go mad without a sense of humor.

"That's okay, everyone just calls me Sister."

Mrs. Caboose laughed, "Well, you'll fit right in then. We've got lots of sisters. Actually, you're the oldest girl in the house now. Half my babies are already grown. Michael only has a couple of years left of school. I don't know what his poor father is going to do when he goes off on his own."

"I heard someone talking about me," a jolly voice boomed. A man that by his looks was clearly Michael's father stepped into the kitchen and kissed his wife. "You must be Kaikaina," he said, looking down at her, "Welcome to the Caboose clan!"

At that moment Michael came in carrying two toddlers, with another clinging to his leg. As he staggered into the room 5 more girls who looked ages ranging from around six to ten swarmed in around them.

"There's my girls!" Mr. Caboose scooped a pair of them – twins by the looks of it – into his arms.

"Everyone, this is Kaikaina," Mrs. Caboose said. "She prefers to be called Sister. Make her feel welcome, and don't pester her until she gets settled in." The littlest girl, who looked about 2, clambered into Sister's lap and stared at her with enormous blue eyes.

"Olivia, come get in your high chair!" Michael scooped up the child and Sister shifted uncomfortably. As everyone settled down at the table Sister felt little hands grasp hers on either side and tried to keep her eyes down as Mr. Caboose said a prayer. She ate in silence as the rest of the Caboose clan raucously talked about their days. This family was just the opposite of hers, and Sister wasn't sure she could handle taking it in all at once.

Much later, Sister was curled up on her top bunk of one of the five sets of bunk beds in the girls' bedroom trying not to make any noise as she shook, trying to hold in her sobs. She heard the door squeak and held her breath as footsteps approached her.

"Kakanaka? Are you awake?" It was Michael. "I'd like to show you something," he whispered. Sister opened her eyes. Michael was so tall he was looking straight at her, though she was on the top bunk.

"What is it?" Sister whispered.

"It's a surprise."

Sister sat up and quietly dropped to the floor. She slipped on her flip flops. "Okay."

Michael took her hand and led her to the living room, where he pulled a blanket off the couch and wrapped it around Sister. She saw the pillows and blankets piled their and her eyes widened.

"You sleep on the couch? You don't have a real bed or room?"

"I don't mind. It's a really comfortable couch." Michael led her to the door.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see." She could see his grin even in the dark.

They walked for a while after they left the apartment, until they came to a grassy park the size of a football field, the grey walls giving way to a clear domed shell overhead.

"Nice to see this place isn't completely barren," Sister muttered. Michael grinned at her, then spun her around.

"Look," he said.

Sister gasped. There it was, in all its blue and green majesty. Earth. Home. The first picture of it had been taken almost 600 years before, and now she was seeing it from the outside for the first time. And it was just as exquisite as she had thought it would be. The tears she had been holding in all day started to fall.

"Ah, I'm sorry!" said Michael, alarmed. "You said you'd never been off planet before, so I thought you'd want to see. I'm sorry if it makes you homesick."

"No it – well it does, but sort of in a good way. Thank you, Michael Caboose, for showing me something so wonderful." She smiled through her tears. He smiled back and put an arm around her blanketed shoulders. They stayed there for a while and just watched the world go by.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: A big thanks to my beta reader AuroraBlix, you are awesome! Also, go read her stories; they totally rock! **

**Disclaimer: Red vs. Blue belongs to Rooster Teeth, not me. I make no profit from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**Chapter Three**

Mrs. Caboose was lecturing. Sister sat in a kitchen chair and picked at her nails, trying not to "get smart" with her foster mother.

"I swear Sister, I don't know what kind of people raised you. You're only thirteen years old!"

"Almost fourteen," Sister interjected, and Mrs. Caboose glared.

"Fraternizing with boys, older boys at that, the way you do – it's shameful. And your medical records indicate you've had … an abortion?"

"Two actually," Sister said brightly, just to annoy her. "I mean, come on, can you imagine me trying to raise a kid?" Sister said flippantly. Mrs. Caboose was getting red in the face.

"No! Which is why you shouldn't be having sex so young!"

"Hey, I'm a woman, physically speaking, and sex is a perfectly natural and healthy thing," Sister shrugged. "If all parties are willing … ."

"I am your guardian, and I am not willing! You're not to leave the house unless you're going to school for the next two weeks. I'll not have you putting ideas in the little ones' heads or let you waste study time on flirting either. Am I understood?"

Sister sighed, "Yes ma'am." Only a month in and she was already grounded. She got up and headed to the fridge. It was her and Michael's turn to make dinner, which meant she had to get busy before he came in and lit something on fire. She adored the boy, really, but he really couldn't be trusted with certain tasks. She understood that up until this point the family just microwaved something on Caboose's night to cook. Even the six year old twins could successfully top and cook a pizza in the oven or a pot of mac and cheese on the stove top, but poor Caboose just couldn't manage it. "Caboose" was what everyone called Michael at school, both for his last name and the fact that he was lowest in the class, and Sister had picked it up as well. He seemed to prefer it, actually.

Funnily enough, he was actually almost decent at school, but had troubles like getting marks off for completing assignments in crayon instead of typing it, or just forgetting to turn things in. Math was his worst subject, and he hated it. Sister had taken to helping him with his homework by turning it into a game. It was a new experience for her, being the responsible one. She just couldn't help but care about Caboose's welfare though.

He was making straight A's in one class – philosophy, his elective – and Sister had to try hard not to burst out laughing every time she saw the teacher praise something odd Caboose said. He wasn't college material by any means, despite what his mother said, but if Sister made sure his homework got turned in he might graduate on time. Sister shuddered at the thought of being here, without Grif, for over two years, or worse three, until she graduated. She missed the green and the beach, but mostly she missed the freedom of how she and Grif lived. She found herself daydreaming more and more about getting a ship of their own once Grif came back, and they'd explore the galaxy until they found a planet with the most perfect beaches and the most perfect waves, and they'd surf all day and party all night. They'd call it New Hawaii and the capital city would be called Grifton.

"Hello!"

Sister shrieked and almost dropped the knife she'd been absently dicing onions with.

"Jesus, Caboose, how does someone big as you sneak up on someone?"

"Sorry," He ducked his head bashfully. "You were daydreaming again."

"Yeah … " Sister smiled wistfully. "Just thinking about what I'm gonna do when I get off this rock. What about you Caboose? What do you want to do when you grow up?"

"Sister … you're crying."

"Huh? Oh, no, it's just the onions," she laughed and added them to the pan she had already put diced spam, sausage, and chunks of pineapple in. One of the little ones ran in.

"Aloha big sister! What are you making?"

"Aloha little sister. I'm making Hawaiian style fried rice," Sister grinned. Much to Mrs. Caboose's dismay, all the little girls loved Sister, and they had attached to her immediately. They had been slowly amassing Hawaiian themed décor in their shared room over the past month and called Sister's night to cook Luau Night, and they insisted everyone watch them dance in plastic grass skirts after dinner.

Sister found it endearing, though it was ridiculous considering true Hawaiian culture had all but disappeared hundreds of years ago. Still, it made her that "good kind" of homesick, and the girls were fun. When the child had run out again, and Sister had checked her rice, she looked back at Caboose.

"Anyway, what were you gonna say?"

"Well," Caboose suddenly looked bashful, "Mom wants me to go to college, but … well, I'd really like – "

"There you are Michael." Mrs. Caboose bustled in. "Can you please move that blasted robot dog into the courtyard? That's the third time I've tripped over it this week!"

"But he's broken! I've been trying to fix him!"

"Well, do it outside," she said sternly.

"Yes ma'am," Caboose pouted and left the kitchen.

"My, Sister, that does smell delicious," said her foster mother.

"Well, I've got to earn my keep somehow," Sister replied cheerfully. There was silence for a moment and Sister heard her foster mother sigh and sink heavily into a chair behind her.

"Kaikaina … I'm sorry if I've made you feel that way – like we won't keep you if you don't earn it. I know it's going to take a while for you to adjust to being a part of our family, but I do want you to feel that you are. A part of our family, I mean. Family is the most important thing to me. I lost my parents and brother early in the war. But I can't imagine what its been like for you – "

Sister turned around, hands on her hips, and said exasperatedly, "See, that's your problem right there. You think that because my parents weren't around they were bad people or something. Well, I'm not an orphan, war or otherwise. I _have_ a family, a great one! Just because we're different from yours doesn't mean we're wrong! My family values freedom – and following your dreams no matter what! We respect each others life choices."

"I have dreams for my children – "

"Yes, but do you know what _their_ dreams are? Have you even asked Caboose what _he wants_ to do with his life?"

Sister and Mrs. Caboose glared at one another across the kitchen table for a moment, until Sister turned around with a with a loud huff. She dumped the cooked rice into the pan with the other ingredients and stirred.

"Look, I like you all. I really do. And it's like you said – it's going to take time to adjust to this new life. But we Grifs are raised with a heck of a lot of independence and attitude, and we look after ourselves. I'm probably more grown up than any of your other almost fourteen year olds have been before. You can't expect me to change who I am. I'll try to follow your rules, so long as you admit I'm not really yours to raise."

Sister turned back around and found every last one of the little girls and Caboose standing just outside the kitchen doorway, eyes wide as saucers. _No one_ had ever back-talked Mama before. It simply wasn't done.

"What are you all looking at?" Sister asked loudly. "Go wash for dinner!" The ten kids scattered like bugs from under a lifted rock. Mrs. Caboose chuckled and began setting the table.

"You're right Sister. You're a lot different than any of my other girls; we're gonna have to take this one day at a time. But you'll respect my rules under my roof. You're not a grown woman yet." Sister nodded in assent, and Mrs. Caboose chuckled again.

"I shudder to think how that brother of yours is handling basic training if he's anything like you."

%

Depending on your viewpoint, Grif was handling basic training … horribly. But then again, that was all part of his master plan: if his performance was bad enough, surely they would just kick him out and he could go home. He'd never been one for much physical activity, so he easily came dead last in all physical challenges. Other tests were harder – he'd actually had to start studying for tests so he could mark answers wrong like he had done in high school to avoid being an overachiever and getting noticed – because he'd been getting too high of scores just by guessing. Insubordination was tricky too. He had to backtalk and disobey orders enough to get kicked out, but not enough to induce a fiery rage into his drill sergeant that ended with Grif being beaten to death.

The whole thing was actually proving much harder than he had expected, and he thought he knew why. Some of the recruits had been separated off from the rest – he assumed it was all the slackers like himself – for an hour everyday and made to watch movies explaining how awesome their jobs were and how glamorous the well-oiled machine of the the military was when orders were followed without question. Despite the act Grif had put on for so long, he wasn't stupid. This was indoctrination – conditioning. They even got to sit in comfy chairs and eat snacks while they watched the videos in air conditioned rooms. They called it positive reinforcement for a reason.

Grif tried to sleep through the movies, but wondered if they worked even then. He cursed himself whenever he realized it had been longer than he promised since the last time he messaged Sister, and he tried to ignore the recurring thoughts of, 'Always follow orders!' 'For glory and honor!' 'Death to the enemy!' and 'Command is never wrong!' It was getting harder. He found himself following orders more and more readily, and not being as bad at things as he could have. It was especially hard since the other recruits were okay guys, and they had a good time together. It was hard _not_ to be a part of the team – they were all miserably tired and hated their drill sergeant together, after all. And he wanted to screw himself, not everyone else, which was much harder to do if the sarge decided to make everyone do pushups every time Grif was late. So it was that Grif was left wondering what he could do to get himself specifically into enough trouble to get sent home, when an opportunity presented itself, or so it seemed.

It was late and they all should have been sleeping, but some of the recruits had begun slipping out at night to drag race in the warthogs. Surely, Grif thought, he could pull some kind of stunt that would fall under the category of "reckless endangerment" or something similar. Maybe he could safely crash and get "destruction of government property"?

The problem now was, they'd been doing this for a week and hadn't been caught yet. Grif was beginning the think he'd have to anonymously tip off their superiors himself if one of the goody-two-shoes recruits didn't hurry up about it. He'd have to hide his winnings first, of course. Grif was tuning up his warthog for the evening when he heard a voice behind him.

"What the hell is this I hear about a drag racing competition?"

Grif grinned to himself. At last! It was a corporal. Surely he'd report them immediately.

"Well, you're welcome to join us, _sir_. If you think you're man enough to take on the undefeated champion." Grif looked down his nose at the higher ranked man. He glared back. This was it! He'd be home tomorrow.

"All right, I'm in," the corporal shrugged nonchalantly. Grif nearly choked in surprise.

"You're not going to report us?"

"How about this – if you win, I won't report you. If you lose, I will," the corporal smirked. Grif just stared. He'd never lost a race. Ever. Now he'd have to lose on purpose.

"Come on Grif! You got this!" someone called from the crowd. Others laughed.

"You're on," Grif said. He smirked with satisfaction that the others thought was confidence to win. "_I'll just make sure it's close, and let of the gas at the end," _Grif thought to himself. The corporal climbed into the jeep next to his.

"Ready when you are recruit," the man said.

Grif followed suit. "Let's do this."

One of the girls grabbed a UNSC flag and stood out in front of the, ready to count them down. It made Grif laugh that this particular girl ("Volleyball" they called her, for her former place on a professional team) was fulfilling the stereotypical female role, as she was actually the only one who had come close to beating him in a race so far, and could certainly beat any of them into the ground in a fight.

"3 … 2 … 1 … " She waved the flag down and Grif slammed down on the pedal, hoping his opponent wasn't distracted by Volleyball's perfect legs and that he was actually a decent racer. The adrenaline surged and what was actually a short distance seemed to stretch out for eternity for a few short moments. The corporal was neck and neck with him, and it was time to let off the pedal, and that surge of competitiveness that Grif had always tried to squash, to keep himself unnoticed, except now when he was racing, took over. Grif shifted gears, and he was over the line.

There was a loud cheer as the jeeps slowed and the others ran to them.

"You tied! One recruit shouted.

"No way!" another replied.

"Was there a camera set up?" Volleyball asked as she jogged up to the finish line.

"Yep, it was an honest tie," A recruit said as he walked over with a camera.

"You know what this means recruit," The corporal eyed Grif's uncertain face with a smirk. "Rematch." There was an excited cheer. "You lot get to bed; you've got a hard day of training tomorrow," he called to the rest and walked off into the night.

Grif sighed as the crowd cleared. Well, _that_ hadn't gone to plan. He climbed out of the jeep and looked around.

"Hey Volleyball, wanna sneak onto a rooftop and get wasted? I'm sure we can find some liquor around somewhere."

"Sorry Dex, I've got plans," she said. "Video chat with Jensen."

"Ah yes, the mysterious Jensen. Maybe next time then." At first Grif had thought, when Volleyball had started calling him by his first name, that maybe something would develop between them, but had put those thoughts away once she had mentioned the mysterious Jensen – the only person from home she ever mentioned at all – who had ended up at a different outpost, in a different timezone.

Grif sighed as they headed back to their bunks. He was furious with himself for letting his competitive streak get away from him. He'd have to try doubly hard to lose the rematch. Every day he was away from Sister was another day he worried what trouble she'd get into.

%

"No, no, no, see you have to connect this wire here, and then this goes … here. Voila!" Sister threw her hands up with a flourish and Caboose gave a cry of joy when his robot dog came back online. It had taken Sister two weeks (the two she had been grounded), but she had successfully figured out how the little bot went together and helped Caboose repair him.

"Honestly, the original workmanship was pretty shoddy, but it's also pretty easy to fix. Do you think you can do it on your own now?" She had tried to teach Caboose how to work on the machine the same way Grif had taught her to understand machines, but was doubtful how much Caboose had actually absorbed.

"Yes! I can do it!" Caboose said happily. "Thanks for teaching me! How do you know all that?"

"Oh, I just hung out at my brother's job a lot. They all worked on cars and ships and stuff. I just absorbed a lot of the basic principles. Come to think of it, I did spend an awful lot of time on my back with some of those guys under machines. I've seen a lot of mechanical things go together, and I just tend to remember things like that."

"Sister," Mrs. Caboose poked her head out the door and looked sternly at Sister, tapping her ear, indicating the "little ears" that were nearby.

"Right, my bad." Sister looked over at the swing set in the courtyard where one of the neighbor kids was pushing the littlest Caboose, Olivia, on the swings. Nearby, the ten year old, Leah, was doing her homework. She was _really_ into homework. Sister thought she'd heard her say she wanted to be a nuclear physicist. Raven, the nine year old, wanted to be a dancer or a boxer, and she was trying to braid her kinky black hair into tiny dreadlocks. Jaymie was seven, and she wanted to be a doctor or a software engineer. Violet and Blue, sisters 4 and 3 years old, were quite the puzzle. They had only been here a few months longer than Sister had. The Asian girls had been found in the escape pod of a ship destroyed by Covies, but no one had yet figured out where the girls had originally come from. They were friendly and intelligent toddlers, but generally silent to the point it creeped Sister out. Olivia, the 2 year old blonde haired, blue eyed biological sister of Caboose was just about as angelic as a kid could be, as opposed to Cayna and Tatum – the six year old "twin terrors," also Caboose's biological sisters, who were notorious pranksters, always causing someone trouble, unless of course they were fighting each other.

Caboose had five older foster sisters and three older biological sisters whom Sister hadn't met yet, ranging in age from 19 to 26, though one of them had brought a box of old clothes over on Sister's first day of school here so that she would have clothing that kept her adequately warm. The base had heating, of course, but they didn't keep it perfectly room temperature to conserve energy. Everyone here was used to it, but Sister was still adjusting from the tropics, and tended to go around in multiple layers at all times.

"Hey Caboose," Sister looked at him after her perusal of his sisters, "you never told me before what you wanted to do once you finish school." she said, staring up at the black of space through the courtyard skylight. Caboose stared up at the stars with her.

"I … want to be … a hero," he said quietly.

"A hero? What for?"

"Well, I watch the space marines on the base where dad works, and it all seems really exciting. And I would really like to help save the world from the scary aliens."

"I think we may need to save ourselves from the humans too," Sister said quietly.

"What?" Caboose was thoroughly confused.

"Nothing, sorry. Ignore me." Sister tried to turn away.

"Nooo, that sounded important, and I am your big brother so you have to tell me." Caboose looked determined.

"It's just that … well, my brother Grif was drafted, but we don't have a draft! I checked – it doesn't exist. And he told me he'd message me all the time, but – but I haven't heard from him in weeks! When I tried to contact someone about it – I mean I just figured his messages were getting lost somehow – they said they have no record of him at all! So I knew there had to be some kind of mix up, and these people assured me that surely it was just lost paperwork or a computer crash had caused an error, and they said they'd get right back to me, but that was weeks ago!" Sister said all this a little breathlessly.

Caboose's brow was furrowed in deep concentration, as he puzzled out Sister's jumbled explanation.

"Maybe … he ran away?" he asked.

"I don't think he'd do something that drastic. Besides, he'd never … " Sister paused, doubting for the first time. Surely Dexter wouldn't run away and leave her?

"Maybe there was bad traffic," Caboose said. "Or maybe he just forgot. He'll remember soon. Though I'll be sad when he comes to take you with him. You're my sister now too."

"No … " Sister said, still thinking about what Caboose had said first.

"What?"

"You're right Caboose. He'd never forget me. Family is too important to us."

"Oh yeah, like how even though I always forget my homework, I never forget to walk the girls home from school, even if I see something shiny."

"Right. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten. Which means Grif is in some kind of trouble." Sister thought about what Caboose had said about running away. She looked across the courtyard at the girls playing, and her heart ached. She had always wanted sisters. She looked back at her new brother. "I have to find him, Caboose. I have to go."


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: A big thanks to my beta reader AuroraBlix, you are awesome! Also, go read her stories; they totally rock! **

**Disclaimer: Red vs. Blue belongs to Rooster Teeth, not me. I make no profit from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**Chapter Four**

Grif hit the ground, hard, and spat blood out of his mouth as he rolled to regain his feet. Striking a superior officer (after losing an illegal drag race) was sure to get him kicked out. The corporal had taken a while to come back for their rematch, and Grif had made sure to trash talk for all he was worth, and then lose the race. He had gone ahead and taken it over the top, being a sore loser for effect, and when the corporal had told him to get in line, Grif had punched him. The corporal had punched right back.

"That's enough recruit. We're done here. Everyone, clear off!" He said loudly and began to walk away. What, was that it? He wasn't going to haul Grif's ass up to his C.O. and have him kicked out on the spot? What was with this guy? That was when Grif spit out the sentence he would later regret more than any in his life.

"I let you win!" he called out. The corporal stopped in his tracks, and there were some gasps and whispers all around.

"What did you say to me?"

"I said I let you win, douchebag."

"Is that so? Well, if you'd care to humiliate yourself again, then by all means – " the corporal motioned toward the warthogs with a sneer. Grif's gaze kept going and rested on something else entirely. He grinned. Now _this_ he would get kicked out for.

"Not the jeeps," he said. "Those." he pointed to two AV-14 Hornets. The corporal laughed.

"You haven't even learned to fly yet."

"Have you?" Grif asked.

"Fine. You'll regret this, recruit." Grif just grinned. He wouldn't regret it, but that asshole would. He was so pumped with adrenaline he'd begun to forget why he was doing this in the first place. The two men jogged over to the hornets.

"Dex. Dex!" Volleyball whispered frantically at him. "You can't fly this thing – you're going to get yourself killed!"

"Relax, I'm a quick learner. I'll be fine." Volleyball gave him a look he couldn't really read and suddenly pressed her lips to his. She'd pulled away again and begun backing away from the hornet before Grif really registered it.

"Be safe Dexter." He nodded.

"All right recruit, I assume you're familiar with the hornet's practice gauntlet if you suggested this. First one back wins. Try not to die." Grif just nodded again and started his vehicle.

%

Meanwhile, the recruits' drill sergeant and the captain in charge of the base were enjoying a nightcap in the control tower, watching the second of the two suns of the planet set in a blaze of purples and golds.

"I got a message from the front. They need a new co-pilot for one of the ODST dropships. Do you have any you'd recommend for the program?" the captain asked.

"There's a couple I might like to send. It's a bit early though. Give it a month," the sergeant replied.

"We don't have a month. They want someone sent straight through, quick as we can."

"Well, that's impossible! They're not even through basic yet; can't someone else transfer out there?" At that moment one of the sergeant's newest charges rushed in.

"Sergeant! Oh, Captain! Sirs!"

"What's wrong, recruit?"

"It's Corporal Cox and Private Grif sir. They're – they're – " The recruits eyes were wide with fear.

"Well, out with it boy!" The captain said.

"Look Sir!" the recruit pointed out the tower window and both captain and sergeant turned in time to see two hornets flash by, maneuvering through the course normally used to train beginner pilots.

"What the hell are they doing?"

"Racing, Sir. They have some sort of bet going, but I don't think either of them know how to fly!"

The sergeant turned to exit the room, intending to put a stop to the madness at once, but the captain grabbed his arm.

"Which one is which?" he asked. The sergeant looked to the recruit.

"Uh, I believe Cox is in the blue one and Grif is in the red one, sir."

"Sergeant."

"Captain?"

"Are you watching this?"

"Yes, sir," He growled angrily.

"No, I mean, are you really watching it?" the sergeant stared out at the two hornets, noticing the blue one falling further behind. Suddenly, an explosion ripped across the obstacles in front of the red hornet.

"That fool Cox is using the grenade launcher!" They watched as the towers designed to train the pilots to maneuver in cities toppled toward Grif's hornet. The ship wound dexterously through the chaos, inches from being crashed, Cox's hornet gaining all the time.

As they came to the end of the course and Cox was about to catch up, he fired another grenade. Those watching gasped as Grif's hornet seemed to drop out of the sky. Cox kept flying toward were he had shot.

"Fool!" the captain said, and sure enough, Cox flew right past as his grenade struck true, and the falling tower struck his tail, sending him into a spin. That was when Grif's hornet popped back up form the smoke, in _front_ of Cox's.

"Great, Scott!" the sergeant cried, "The boy can fly!"

They watched as Grif set down the hornet gently, and then looked back to see Corporal Cox clamber out of his own hornet that he'd just managed to land.

"And here I thought the boy was useless," said the sergeant. "I do believe we've found that pilot you needed captain."

"Indeed," said the captain. "Indeed … "

%

Grif stepped out of the hornet on shaking legs. Apparently he had inherited his father's gift for stunt flying. That had definitely been the scariest, stupidest thing he had ever done.

"That was awesome!"

"You almost died!"

"Oh man, you really showed him!" The other recruits gathered around him, but he pushed through until he could see her –

"Volleyball," he called to her, and she looked as if she was about to answer when her face changed from pleasant surprise to tension and – fear?

"ATTEN-TION!"

The recruits gasped aloud and jumped to attention. All except for Grif. He grinned and sauntered toward his C.O. This was it – he was going home.

"Soldier, head to my office, now," the captain said. Grif gave a mock salute and continued his saunter past the older man, chuckling as he did at the sight of his sergeant nearby screaming the corporal's ears off. He let himself into the captain's office and plopped himself down in a chair. The captain came in a few minutes later.

"Well, private Grif, I guess you should be pretty proud of yourself."

"I think so sir; I've made it my personal duty to put douchebags like Cox in their place," he said cheerfully.

"That was some impressive flying young man. In fact, so impressive that we have a job for you."

"A – a job, sir?" Grif's cheeky grin faltered.

"Indeed. A squad of ODSTs need a new pilot. We're sending you to be properly trained immediately. You're needed on the front lines, soldier."

"The – the front?" Grif's eyes widened. "But, but I'm crap at everything, and I'm insubordinate, and I punched a corporal, and caused damage to property, and – "

"And this is war son. And you're a damn good pilot somehow. Your teammates like you, and it's pretty obvious you only do badly because of laziness. You leave for ODST training at oh-six-hundred. Dismissed."

"Oh – six – hundred? But I haven't even finished _basic!_"

"Dismissed," said the captain again, and his voice brooked no argument.

Grif staggered out of the office, completely nonplussed. He somehow made it back to the bunk house. Volleyball was waiting for him.

"Did you get kicked out?" she asked softly.

"They're making me a pilot for an ODST squad," Grif said faintly. "I leave in the morning." They stared at each other for a moment.

"Then let's not waste tonight," she said and pulled him towards her.

%

Sister stared at the outgoing flights of the moon port. None of them were going to the planet Grif was supposedly on. She had originally planned on sneaking into the actual military base and stowing away. She figured she could seduce one of the young rookies easily enough and slip past him onto a ship, but then decided she wasn't sure what sort of conditions she'd be stowed away in, and changed her mind. Besides, if she got caught they'd probably think she was and Inny and shoot her.

She thought for a while, watching the ships go back and forth across the star littered sky. She and Caboose often watched the ships together these past weeks, dreaming. She had taken Caboose down to the cargo ship docking area last week because he had completely fallen in love with fixing things after she'd helped him with his robot dog. There she'd found an ancient mechanic and asked if he'd like an assistant.

"Well, I can't pay ye," he grumbled.

"Oh that's all right. Caboose just wants to learn."

"He could go to school for that."

"Schools don't really adjust for Caboose's learning style," Sister had explained. "He'll need someone who's very patient, who can explain things in unusual ways."

"And you think I can do that?" the old man picked at his teeth and looked skeptical.

"Well, I'm going on the stereotype that old people are wise, of course."

This had given Sister an idea. She headed down to the cargo area now – rehashing her plan in her head as she went. Introducing Caboose to the old mechanic would hopefully keep him busy enough to prevent him from pining when she left. She had already talked to Leah to make sure she would help Caboose get his homework turned in on time. Sister's backpack was packed with her warm clothes. Now all she needed was a ride. She had never hitch-hiked before, if that's what you could call it. There weren't many places to go in Hawaii, so she wasn't really sure how to go about it. She walked up and down the cargo bay, looking at the ships and destinations. No luck. None of them were going to her destination.

Sister sighed, almost ready to give up, when she was startled by a clatter of parts and a string of curses behind her. She turned to see a man, probably in his thirties, fuming with anger in front of a rather ramshackle looking vessel. Sister looked closer. There was no destination listed for the ship, and there were a lot of tools lying around underneath it. Sister approached the man cautiously and tried not to wrinkle her nose at the smell of liquor.

"Is that a D96-TCE?" she asked, allowing a little wonder into her voice. People at school had always made fun of her for it, but she thought these ships were beautiful. The man looked up at her, surprised.

"Yeah, my little Albatross."

Sister snickered. The Albatross was anything but little. "I thought those were UNSC ships."

"Yeah, but they get decommissioned once they're too old or busted up. This baby's vintage. She flies true though, just needs a lot of love to keep her running. She's a bit temperamental."

Sister smiled. "We've got a great mechanic."

"Can't afford it. I lost my last job due to Covies. Gotta fix her myself and then find another paying gig around here."

"I could help," Sister offered.

"You? Surely you've got no know how on something like this, Little Bit."

"Well, I've never worked on an Albatross before, but I'm good at fixing things. It kinda runs in the family."

"Well … " the man scratched his head, pondering. "It sure wouldn't hurt to see if those little bitty hands of yours could fit in those hard to reach places."

"Great! Let me take a look." In minutes Sister was elbow deep in the works of the ship, calling out for tools and parts.

"How old are you, Little Bit?"

Sister paused before answering. "I'll be sixteen in a few weeks," she lied. She could get away with that lie – and therefore sleeping with most of the boys she had – because she had developed early.

"You live here with family?" the man asked.

"Sort of. My brother's in the military, so I'm staying with a foster family right now. They're pretty cool."

"I got a little sister in the military as well. She's in some special ops things – she's the overachiever of the family." Sister poked her head out to see him smiling fondly at the thought of his sister.

"_Okay, so he may or may not be a drunk. He has his own cargo ship though, so he can't be too useless. He seems friendly, a family guy. This may work," _Sister thought.

"Say, what's your name, mister?"

"It's Brennan. And yours?"

"I'm called Sister."

"Sister, eh?"

"Yep. So, where are you headed once you're fixed up?"

"Don't know yet. I usually hang around the outer colonies, don't get this far in. The work out there pays a bit higher on account of the Covies being around more, you know? Most people won't brave it."

"I was actually thinking of heading out there myself," Sister tried to sound casual. "To be near my brother."

"You don't think it's too dangerous?" Brennan asked as Sister emerged from where she'd been working.

"You don't. The people who live there don't. Why should I?"

"I guess I can't argue with that logic or I'd argue myself out of going back," he chuckled. "Well, Little Bit, I wish I could pay you for those little hands helping me out," he said slowly.

"You could give me a ride," Sister suggested.

"Well now, I guess I could. Give your coordinates and an hour to find some cargo to take out that way."

"Great!" She handed him a slip of paper that she had written her destination on. "I'll just get my bags. I'll be back in a flash," Sister grinned. She then hurried back to the apartment, slipped in silently, and grabbed her things. She turned around and squeaked in surprise at Caboose looming over her.

"You're leaving aren't you?"

"Caboose, I have to find my brother."

"I'm your brother," Caboose insisted.

"You know Caboose, you really are. But I know that you're safe here, and I don't know that Grif is. I have to do this."

Caboose looked at the floor, pouting. Sister was grasping at straws, trying to find the right words to get Caboose to let her go.

"I'll see you again Michael J. Caboose. This isn't goodbye."

"It isn't?"

Sister seized the thought. "No, it isn't, because we aren't going to say goodbye. Because I won't be gone – just, not here right now, ya know?"

Caboose stepped aside and Sister stepped past him and turned, stood on tiptoes and kissed Caboose on the cheek. "Aloha, brother."

"Aloha, Kaikaina."

Then Sister was gone from him, leaving Caboose standing alone in the dark apartment hallway.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: A big thanks to my beta reader AuroraBlix, you are awesome! Also, go read her stories; they totally rock! **

**Disclaimer: Red vs. Blue belongs to Rooster Teeth, not me. I make no profit from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**Chapter Five**

Sister looked around, drinking in the details of the old Albatross. She was vintage all right – a real bucket of rust. But Sister thought Brennan was right. This ship just needed love, and a lot of elbow grease, and Sister thought she was just the person to provide it. She turned to watch as a forklift brought in the cargo Brennan had secured while she'd been getting her things.

"All right Sister, we're good to go." Brennan grinned at her and then turned to wave off the forklift. He looked as if he had washed and shaved while she was gone as well.

"_Good,"_ Sister thought. _"I was hoping he wouldn't try to fly drunk. I'll give the guy the benefit of the doubt that he was just having a bad day."_

"Come on," Brennan called to her, "I'll show you the bunks." He led the way up from the cargo area into the rest of the ship. "This ship can service a crew of six," Brennan said. "Sorry there's only the one crew quarters, but this was a military ship after all." Brennan motioned at the door and Sister looked into the tiny room containing nothing but six skinny bunks built into two walls.

"It's okay; I'm used to small spaces. I've been sharing a two bedroom apartment with a dozen people."

"Wow," Brennan looked incredulous. "The bathroom's across the hall. You familiar with water rationing on ships?"

"I've read about it. I've only ever been on the shuttle from Earth to the Moon though."

"You are just full of surprises, Little Bit. You sure seem comfortable around ships for never having been on one."

"I've always wanted to go into space!" Sister said jovially. She just wished it was under more pleasant circumstances.

"Well, we'll see how much you like it after you've lived in it a while," Brennan chuckled. "It's not a particularly glamorous place."

Sister grinned at him. "I'm not a particularly glamorous girl." Brennan laughed.

"Well, drop your stuff kid, and come up to the bridge while we take off. A shuttle from Earth to the Moon doesn't count as a girl's first time, not by a long shot."

Sister laughed at his innuendo and followed him. She bounced a little on the balls of her feet with excitement as Brennan motioned for her to take the co-pilot's seat.

"Let's see here … " Brennan began muttering to himself as he hit some switches and buttons. Sister never took her eyes off him, trying to memorize what he was doing. Brennan called flight control over the radio and received permission to take off. Sister closed her eyes for a moment and reveled in the sound and feel of the engines firing up, but opened her eyes again so she could watch Brennan maneuver carefully out of the hangar.

"I hate landing on rocks without any atmo. Maneuvering in and out of these doors is a bitch in a ship this big...much easier to just set down on the ground and be done with it," Brennan muttered. Sister didn't reply, just stared at her first truly unobstructed view of the stars as they lifted away from the Moon.

"What's her name?" Sister asked finally.

"What's that?" Brennan glanced over at her.

"You used the ship's I.D. Number when you radioed for takeoff, but what's her name?

"Ah, I didn't ever rename her after I got her, so I guess she's still registered under the name the USNC gave her. I just call her Albatross."

"Every great ship needs a great name – like Enterprise or the Millennium Falcon or Serenity!" Sister said, eyes bright. Brennan just snorted at her.

"Yeah, you have a much too romantic notion of space if you're basing it on all those ancient cult shows."

"Hey, don't knock 'em. That stuff is classic." Sister stuck her tongue out at Brennan.

"Yeah, but real life isn't pretty and romantic. There's a war on kid. There's fire and death and loss and betrayal. There's loneliness and guilt and lies. There's just scraping by some days and wondering why we're even here."

"Clearly you haven't watched any of the classic sci-fi shows," Sister said, unimpressed. Brennan's face was unreadable as he stared out into the black and Sister considered him for a few moments. "Well, yeah, that's life," she continued, "but only part of it. There's also adventure and fun and love and friendship and family!" Sister thought the look on Brennan's face shifted for a moment and showed...guilt? Sorrow?

"You're young yet, Sister. The world breaks us all. Then again … " he smirked, glancing at her, all trace of unpleasantness gone. "You seem pretty bouncy. The world may not be able to break you."

%

Grif sat on a troop dropship, frowning. He'd had a week of crash course flight training – a _week_ – and now he was being taken to join his new squad. A squad of experienced ODSTs. It should have been anyone but him. And he'd had one mind blowing night with Volleyball, and highly suspected she wouldn't be contacting him again. He thought she might only have done it because she fully expected him to die within a month. Wouldn't that be rich? He died by the time his friends finished basic training in a few weeks time.

"_Oh shit, even better, it's going to be Sister's birthday soon, and I've got nothing for her. No war trophies or post cards from an exotic planet, nothing."_ He still hadn't been writing much, and was kicking himself for that. "_I bet its that damn indoctrination stuff!"_ he thought_. "They get us so focused on the fight that we forget everything else – even home. Well, I guess that's one good thing about boot camp being cut short. That stuff won't take as well. Lucky I slept through a lot of it – who knows what kind of zombie I'd be otherwise. Jesus, I shudder to think of myself blindly following orders, ever! I'm a rebel, man! I gotta keep doing my best to get kicked out. It's just gonna be a lot harder now, since I'm gonna be trying not to die as well. Come to think of it, when was the last time I heard from Sister? These bastards had better not be blocking my messages!"_

"Hey over there!"

Grif looked up. They had landed while he was deep in thought, and the pilot was motioning for him to get a move on. He picked up his gear and exited into the frigate that would be his new home, looking around for where he was supposed to go.

"You there! Are you my new pilot?" Grif faced the voice and stared at the most stereotypical looking sergeant he'd ever seen – a short, overly muscled, middle aged man with a white flattop buzz cut stared at him in what Grif supposed was meant to be an intimidating manner.

"Uh, yes sir. Private Dexter Grif reporting for duty."

"All right, get your keester movin' mister! We ain't got time for lolly-gaggin'. Stow your stuff in the bunks down that hall, two lefts and then a right. We're 42nd platoon," he pointed vaguely and Grif realized he'd have to ask directions from someone else immediately. "Then meet back in the hangar. We've got Covies to kill!" Grif fervently hoped the sergeant was kidding about killing aliens _right now_ as he watched the man stalk off, shouting at someone as he went, "Somebody get me a strawberry Yoohoo!"

Grif's hope was in vain though. He dutifully found his bunk after asking directions several times (It was a frigate after all; they weren't small), dropped his stuff, and headed back to the hangar. When he reported back a fully outfitted ODST team was filing into their pods.

"Grif, get over here! Here's your armor. Get suited up, on the double!" Grif did as he was told as another soldier jogged up.

"Sarge, is this my new co-pilot?" he asked in an Australian accent.

"Surely is Russel. Them damn yuppies at Command sent him. Ain't even finished basic and only had a week of flight training. 'Gifted' is the word they used for his supposed abilities." Sarge glared at Grif as he quickly finished putting on his armor.

"Well, we did request someone in a rush, Sarge," the sandy haired, freckle faced pilot replied.

"Well, if that idiot Hulme hadn't gotten killed, we wouldn't need them damn hippies at Command to send us someone they felt like makin' feel special!"

"Hey, I didn't ask for this job!" Grif said angrily. Sarge glared.

"Enough backtalk soldier! Russel, you better not get dead, or all the rest of us will too, if this rookie's got to fly us anywhere!" He stomped away onto the nearby SOEIVs.

"Don't worry about Sarge. He's still just pretty torn up about losing Hulme. He was the first we've lost in this squad. We were shot down on the way back form our last mission. I've been in recovery for about a month myself. I'm Nathan Russel by the way, and don't worry, we all learn as we go on this job. You just went through the basics faster is all. I think people learn better under pressure, don't you? Come on then, let's go kill some Covies," he grinned.

Grif just stared in horror as Russel headed toward a shiny new Pelican. He tried not to think about what must have happened to the last one. Finally, he made his way to the front of the ship and sat down in the co-pilot seat. It was the ship he had been taught to fly the week before, so that wouldn't be a problem. He supposed they had done that purposefully. He hoped so anyway. Grif shuddered to think what it would have been like if he had shown up not actually knowing how to fly his own squad's ship.

"So, what's the plan here? They're ODSTs. They drop from the sky. What do we do?" Grif asked as he buckled in.

"It's pretty simple really. After they hit the ground they either clear a safe area for us to land and bring them any supplies or vehicles they need, or they complete their mission, then clear a safe area for us to come pick them up when they need extraction."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

"So, drop shit off, pick people up, try not to die."

"You got it rookie."

"How did you crash last time?" Grif asked nervously.

"Covies shot us right out of the sky. We had just taken off though, so it wasn't a long fall as much as an awkward glide and skid … into the side of a building, which is how we lost Hulme and I ended up in hospital for a month." Russel said all of this as he fired up the ship, and Grif tried not to make the expression "shaking in his boots" completely true.

Russel opened the radio channel, "This is Sierra-42, requesting permission for takeoff."

A voice replied over the radio, "We read you Sierra-42. You are cleared for takeoff. Good hunting."

"I don't really know if I should be coming," Grif's voice wavered. "I mean, I literally just got here twenty minutes ago. Shouldn't I at least get mission briefings or something first?" Grif begged.

"Too late now rookie," Russel chuckled. "We're on our way."

%

The next morning, Grif and his new squad dragged into the hangar, a bit worse for wear, but all alive and accounted for. The men slowly headed for their bunks, a bit of joking and celebrating between them.

"Man, I thought we were dead for sure when they hit us this time. No way we'd get lucky twice in a row."

"That wasn't luck Williams, that was the rookie," Russel said. "I don't know what we got hit with, but the CDS was on the fritz bad. We lost power to half our thrusters and life support as well."

"Is that why there was the spinning and the falling and the screaming for a while?"

"Yeah, the crazy kid just told me to take over on guns and pulled a panel right off the console and started rewiring things. He rerouted power and got everything rebooted in like a minute and a half."

"Just so you know Russel, it felt like longer than a minute and a half. It felt like a lifetime." Williams glowered.

"Did you say life support was out too? Oh man, I'm glad I didn't know that at the time," another soldier said.

"Seriously, Lee? You fall out of the sky on fire and slam into the earth with nothing to protect you but that metal box, and you're worried that life support was on the fritz for two minutes?" Russel ragged on him.

"Hey, I want to go out with a bang, not slowly suffocating and freezing to death."

"Well, we were being _shot at_ at the time. If guns had gone offline as well we would have died in a fiery explosion, just like you wanted," Russell said, annoyed.

"Say Grif, that was pretty quick thinking back there. How did you know to rewire the system like that?" Williams asked.

"Huh?" Grif was holding his helmet tightly with both hands, staring into space. "Ah, I just used to work at an auto shop. You just pick up things like that over time. These rich retired guys would bring in their small ships. Basically like RVs, but space shuttles you know? Ones they would take to Mars or Europa on vacation. Granted, I've never worked on a ship this big before. Hell I've barely worked on ships at all, mostly cars – so I could have killed us …." The rest of the crew laughed and slapped him on the back as they exited the ship and headed for some well deserved rest. They didn't seem to notice Grif's anxiety.

"Russel, you lied to me," he said, his voice cracking with stress.

"What's that?" Russel turned to face him in surprise.

"You said, drop stuff off, pick people up, try not to die," Grif's voice rose and he sounded a bit desperate. "You did not say we would fly into enemy held territory _in the middle of a fire fight! _You did not say I would have to shoot at bad guys and that they would shoot back! I learned to fly, not to shoot! You did not say I would have to _repair a ship mid-crash_ because for some reason we _don't have a crew chief_ like they said we would in the _week_ of training I got!"

"Well, yeah, but that was all sort of implied in the try not to die part," Russel just shrugged.

"_I was not prepared for this! _Everyone said it would be fine!_ Everyone_ lied to me!_ Who is running this god damn army?"_ Grif stared wildly and ran his fingers over his head, belatedly remembering he had no more long dreads to run his fingers though. "Russel, I shouldn't even be here," Grif insisted.

"We would have been dead in the water if you weren't, rookie," Sarge growled. Grif turned in surprise. He hadn't realized his sergeant was still standing in the pelican behind him.

"There's no shame in bein' scared your first time out, Private Grif. You did good. We'll make a man out of you soon enough." Sarge spat on the ground in a particularly manly fashion and pulled out a cigar and a matchbook. For some reason, Grif calmed as he watched Sarge puff on the cigar, bringing it to life with a warm red glow.

"A pilot and crew chief in one," Sarge said thoughtfully, "now that's useful! I expect this ship to be ship-shape by the end of tomorrow, you two. We can't kill Covies with a busted ship, and all those wires going every which way is dangerous. Now, get some rest. I can't have you flying on nothing but caffeine and will power. Gotta stay fit!" Grif gawked as Sarge strode away whistling, a spring in his step.

"He was just on a battle field for like 12 hours. How the hell is he not completely exhausted?" Grif asked.

Russell just shrugged, "He seems to subsist on the blood of his enemies and those strawberry drinks."


End file.
